SpearWife
The truth was
left lying...
Somewhere within the
duration of our comfortable
silence.
I can taste all of my
unshed tears,
as the gift of fluidity
in the language of love
and violence.
Solutions tear at me and
drag me under as
I pull away from the
foreign sense of inner purity,
and as I become lost in
contrast, and my
insights blind, I
become another of Gods
condemned and guilty.
Sentenced to a quasi-life
of perverse flirtations
with a dark, deceptive
mortal art;
who pricks me with the
sharpened end; a perpetual
threat, causing me to dance
with death as I simply
fall apart.
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